Shooting Star
by Mercury'sShadow
Summary: This is a short AU scene based on Karen Miller's great novel "Wild Space". Bail's musings as Anakin intercepts Padme's ship after she rescues Obi-Wan and Bail from Zigoola.


[Author's Note: This is a short AU scene based on Karen Miller's great novel Wild Space. The characters all belong to Disney. The original plot upon which this story is based belongs to Karen Miller. I have no idea how to get her permission to use this, so I hope that she is okay with this story.

For those of you unfamiliar with Karen Miller's novel Wild Space, Bail Organa and Obi-Wan pursue intelligence information received by Bail, and go on a secret mission to a planet in wild space, where they suffer great trials due to the Sith. They are ultimately rescued by Padme. Meanwhile, Anakin is on his own mission with Ahsoka, but has a bad feeling regarding his former Master.

This story presumes that Anakin receives a cryptic message from Padme following the rescue telling him that Obi-Wan is hurt, and Anakin takes the liberty of intercepting Padme's ship on the return trip to Coruscant. In the novel, this did not occur.]

"Shooting Star"

I watch the young Jedi enter the ship in a whirl of dark robes, the power practically crackling around him; a clone commander and others from a clone unit that I am not familiar with, following closely at his heels. An anxious padawan is with him but she is almost invisible, trailing in his footsteps. It feels like an assault on our ship, and I have to remind myself that they are on our side. I take a deep breath and he fixes me with a dark stare and I have no illusions about who he is. This is the fabled Anakin Skywalker.

I rise to meet him, my weakened body protesting the sudden movement and I wince, not entirely due to my injuries. The young man's glare is palpable as his purposeful strides approach me, his boots clanging with anger on the deck. It is Senator Amidala's ship but she is not here; she is in the cockpit making unobtrusive but necessary arrangements for my return to Coruscant. He strides the ship like he owns it; I can imagine her anger for his presumptuousness.

"Senator Organa". The ice in his voice is unmistakable and I look across into his burning eyes. It is not really a greeting. The Jedi's gaze is roaming, seeking someone else, but I am alone to greet him. He is making a poor effort at trying to maintain some semblance of diplomatic protocol, but even that small effort quickly disappears.

"Where is he?" The words are spoken slowly and forcefully, as if I am a newbie who does not speak Basic. He can only be referring to you, Master Kenobi, my new and unexpected friend. His gaze rakes over me, and something that I cannot place flashes in his eyes. He fixes me with an icy stare, "Where is General Kenobi?"

He is taller than I expected. Much taller than you, Master Kenobi, but I will not let his look unnerve me. He takes in my battered and weak form, the deep bruising across my face and hands. My injured shoulder is throbbing suddenly and unconsciously I tug lightly on the sling. I am unable to hide the damaged shoulder or the fact that I have lost a great deal of weight. I know that I appear gaunt and sick. My clothes are those of a simple maintenance worker; nothing else was available that fit my reduced frame. As I pause to consider my answer, he glowers again at me.

"What. Did. You. Do?" he finally growls at me.

It is a loaded question and it is hard to tell if he is asking about me personally or about our transgressions committed together, you and I. Somehow he knows that we were on this mission because of me. I hear the unspoken question. _What did you do to him?_

_xxxx_

Never have I experienced anger emanating from a Jedi, (except for Mace Windu who perpetually wears a scowl). But this is different. This is barely suppressed rage and the young man who wears it is the former padawan of you, my new friend, the great Master Kenobi. The seething power around him reminds me fleetingly of the horrid place that you and I have just left and I pull myself up, putting on my bearing of royalty. I am a prince after all and I will not have this youngster barging in with his black mood and accusing glare and upsetting you, my severely injured companion. I have had enough. You have been through enough.

"Just a minute, son . . " I begin but it is a poor choice of words chosen by my still exhausted and injury addled mind and he stops me with a quick flick of his hand.

"I am not YOUR son!" he barks. I pause, taken aback by his treatment of me, a senator in the Grand Republic and Prince of Alderaan. Not because I am arrogant. But because Jedi are always aware of protocol and this Jedi has already broken every diplomatic protocol upon entering Senator Amidala's ship in this way and he appears on the verge of an emotional breakdown of epic proportions.

_No._ _He is YOUR son. . . ._And I realize in an instant what is wrong. He is afraid. He is afraid for you.

I am a prince and a senator. I have spent a lifetime in politics and diplomacy, getting to know beings of all races and species, read their body language and their expressions and he is not trying to hide anything. Subtle, he is not. He is nearly ready to kill me because he believes that I have hurt you. Although he knows that I have not hurt you directly, he does believe that I am somehow responsible. He knows that you will do your duty to protect others, to protect me, and so I am responsible even if I have not personally lifted a hand against you.

He is not wrong. It is because of me, because of the information that I had gleaned and that I insisted we pursue together, that you and I were trapped together for days on that hellhole. I thought that you were being arrogant in trying to leave me behind; demeaning my worth. Now I know that you are not arrogant at all. Your overriding sense of duty, your need to protect others at any cost to yourself, is what truly drives you. It was because you valued my life that you did not want me to go. Your seeming arrogance stems from your belief that you need to carry the burden alone, that it is not to be shared with anyone. It makes you aloof, untouchable, unreadable. But I know better now. I saw you break.

xxxx

But you are not broken, Master Kenobi. I watched the evil of the Sith you speak of, try to annihilate you; to destroy your mind, your body and your spirit. It hates you. It does not just want you dead. That is not enough for it. It wants to crush you; to destroy the essence of the man that you are. The evil fears you. So it should.

You broke but did not concede; you cracked but did not fail; in all of your suffering you held true to your beliefs. You never killed me even when you easily could have. Your mind is beyond exhausted, your spirit is deeply wounded and your body is truly broken. But you were always a Jedi. You still are. The Sith have everything to fear from you.

xxxx

I spent seven days festering in the nine Corellian hells with you on an evil and forsaken planet and many days before that, I spent on a very small ship disliking you, Master Kenobi. Disliking you and perpetually annoyed by you. Then I was forced to watch you transform from a powerful, seemingly invincible Jedi into a shadow of a man who struggles for every breath, who is sick, lame, unable to walk without help, and who was almost lost in the nightmares of his own mind. But for how far you have fallen, you did not fail. You are the strongest man that I know and I am proud to call you my friend now. Because I know that you suffered so that you could save me, not just yourself, and that when it came down to it, you were prepared to die to give me a chance to get off that putrid world. Even if you did not escape, yourself. I see the light slowly returning to you since we departed that forsaken planet and it has made my heart glad.

But I know in an instant that he will not see the light rising in you. He will see only the darkness that stained you: your suffering and all that you have lost. He will see your broken and bloody legs, your damaged ribs, your cracked elbow. He will see your battered face and your ripped and torn skin; your body that is so emaciated now from hunger and exhaustion as to be the size of a child. He will see your devastated spirit and instead of giving you time and space to heal, he will attack you with his fear, his need for you to be okay. And you will kill yourself trying to be okay for him, because he needs you to be so; because that is who you are.

xxxx

I sat with you for the past four days and nights, Obi-Wan, my friend, watching you heal; praying that you _would_ heal. I heard you cough like a man drowning, unable to catch your breath. I know how broken your body truly is. You look better now than before. But you still are a mess, as am I. I have no illusions of this and I do not know what to say to him as he stands before me, all raw power and barely controlled emotion. I am worried about what he will do when he sees you. I am worried about what you will do. You are his father, his mentor, his big brother – perhaps some semblance of all three. The clone medic commander interrupts as I gather my thoughts to prepare him for what he will see. I would prefer to keep him away from you, but I know that is impossible. Nothing will keep him away from you.

xxxx

I enter the medbay before him and turn to watch warily as he follows the clone medic into the room, a dark inferno of raw emotion. He stops dead just inside the doorway when he sees you lying there and his face visibly pales while his mouth drops open. For a second, he is like a small youngling and I see the disbelief mixed with fear on his face. He cannot believe this is you. But he knows it is you.

"Master!" He cries out and it is the strangled sound of a youngling pleading for a parent. But then his padawan, who has quietly crept in beside him, almost trips on him in her haste to back up because she too has seen you now, and the horror is etched in the fine features of her face. Then the warrior in him returns and he is once again the angry young man as his shoulders straighten and he sends her away. She scurries off with a quick backward glance at you. She cannot hide the sorrow on her face or the tears in her eyes and I can tell she does not want to be here; does not want to see you like this. You would not want her to see you like this. You are sleeping but you sense him; I know you do, Obi-Wan. How can you not? His fear fills the room.

xxxx

You struggle to wake up and he is beside you in an instant. I should leave and let you be alone with your young charge, but I have developed a need to protect you. He has so much nervous energy emanating from him and I fear what seeing him will mean for you. You wake fully and I see the pain ripple across your face before you can gain control and put on the implacable mask that you usually wear. He steps back and gasps like he has been punched.

"Master! You're hurt!" He is not just speaking the obvious. It is like he feels your pain; like he has some preternatural bond with you. His eyes say that he does but he shakes it off and takes your scraped and battered hand.

"Master, what have you done this time?"

I hear the unspoken accusation, as he chances a quick glare at me. _What has he done to you? What did he drag you into that could do . . .THIS . . to you?_

You smile at him, a small smile but it makes my heart glad because I thought that you might never smile again. Odd, how I have become protective of a Jedi. It is immediately apparent how close the two of you are, even though you are barely conscious.

"Anakin. A bit of an incident. Nothing to worry about", you say, breathless after even those few words. You cough, a harsh and unforgiving cough and I am annoyed with you now, as is he.

"Incident? This is not just an incident, Master!" He is nearly yelling and I understand his frustration with you. His gaze rakes your beaten and battered form that cannot be hidden by all the bandages . "

What did this to you?! Who did this to you?!" He pauses. "I swear that I will make them pay, Master!"

And his voice is a low growl, hissing like an enraged animal and the fire burning in his eyes makes me take a step backward despite myself.

I freeze, wondering if I can possibly have heard him correctly, but there is no denying the look on his face and the rage in his voice. Jedi do not seek vengeance. Even I know that. My heart almost stops because what he has said violates everything that you believe in, Obi-Wan; everything that you suffered for. I see you stiffen and I know your pain has gone up a notch as you try to settle your youngster. The "Hero with No Fear" who fears so much.

"No Anakin. Revenge is not the Jedi way", you murmur in pain as he takes your hand again.

I empathize with him. I know how he feels, for I too was ready to kill whatever evil creature could deliberately torture another in such a cruel and heart-wrenching way, as the Sith tortured you on that forsaken planet. But you are right. It is not about vengeance. It is about justice – and they are different. Even when the result is the same.

"Maybe revenge should be the Jedi way!" your young Jedi cries angrily. "Look at you!"

And I can see the grief in your eyes. You did not want him to see you like this. You know how broken that you appear.

"I should have been with you! I could have stopped it!" He is yelling now.

"No!" The word is ripped from your mouth and now I see the fear in your eyes instead of his. "I never want you to go through such a thing, Anakin! EVER!" you say vehemently to him, your voice harsh.

His eyes widen and he is taken aback, pausing before he speaks again. There is a look on his face that I don't understand.

"You don't think that I am strong enough. You think that I am still your padawan and can't do anything right!" he finally spats out.

May the Force have mercy. How have you managed the maelstrom of conflicting emotions wrapped up in this young man for all these years? How could he know you so well and still misunderstand you so completely? I know what you are trying to say. You love him and you would not have him suffer as you have suffered. It has nothing to do with his strength. I am reminded again of a father and son, or a responsible, dutiful older brother trying to reign in a fiery younger brother's wrath. He does not see what his response does to you. He does not know how wrong he is about you.

xxxx

I start to step forward because I see the distress in your eyes and I am worried about you. This youngster of yours is not a child; he is a man, a Jedi, a general even, with his own padawan but he still is your child/younger brother and it is now clear to me that you are his anchor and yet he resents you for it. I have a sudden visage of him as a teenage youngling, with a 'would be friend' who twists and manipulates words and actions to their own benefit, sowing seeds of resentment and distrust until that 'friend' succeeds in turning him against you, Obi-Wan, the one man who loves him like a son. His insecurity makes him ripe for such "friends" to lead him astray. I cut the thought short because that cannot be. After all, he is a Jedi and not exposed to selfish individuals who would take advantage of such vulnerabilities in him.

You catch your breath and try to muster enough energy to answer him, to calm him and remind him that he is a Jedi – he is better than the monsters who seek vengeance and suffering, but your pain flares so that even I can see it and he almost falls to the floor from the agony that he feels through the mysterious bond that he seems to share with you. In an instant he is holding you, squeezing you so tight that I fear that he will hurt you even more, but you are beyond noticing and he is lost in his grief as he continues to hold your shuddering shoulders in his arms while you try to hold back the pain. The clone medics race into the room but he will not leave you.

xxxx

I know that I am intruding now and I shuffle my way out the door, squeezing your pale hand as I go, to let you know that I am still near if you need me. He looks at me, surprised that I presume to touch you. But we faced certain death, you and I, and we cheated it together, Obi-Wan. You are my loyal friend and I am now yours and I will protect you from him if need be. My look tells him so and he stands up a bit taller, not sure what to think of me. I do not care what he thinks of me. After all, I am a Senator and a Prince and I am not beholding to him – only to you. Because of you, I will return home to my beautiful wife who I love more than anything in the galaxy. Because of you, I will live another day.

You are barely conscious now, lost between the ravages of your injuries and the drugs that they have pumped into your system to hold your pain at bay. But I catch the grateful look you give me as I leave and the slight smile of thanks. He notices too, and again I see the surprise on his face. You do not let many into your inner circle. Neither do I. True, steadfast friends are hard to come by and I can count them on one hand. You are now on that list.

xxxx

I return later when you are alone. His padawan has dragged him away to attend to some necessity with the Jedi Council. She cannot look at you without tears springing to her eyes. He rarely leaves your side, except to converse occasionally with Senator Amidala in private. I have clandestinely watched you and your former padawan for hours now as we finally approach Coruscant. Is that rude of me? Perhaps, but I need to know if he is hurting or helping you. I know that you are in your weakest moment and I will not allow anyone to disparage you now. I know that you do not like to be weak. It is my turn to protect you, even if I have to protect you from him. I have seen something flash between him and Senator Amidala, but I am not entirely sure what it is. I am surprised by her tolerance of his moods and his manner as she would normally hold a Jedi to much more account for his behavior. But it is you who I am worried about; not him, nor her, so I let it go.

You are resting but I can tell from the lines around your eyes that you are in pain. Stubborn barve; you resist the painkillers even when you sorely need them. Your life is more complicated than I expected. Jedi are not supposed to love, I have heard. But how can you not? My beloved Breha and I have not been blessed with children but I can imagine how you feel about him. I can see it in your eyes; in your need to be strong for him even when you have no strength left. It is clear that he is, if not your child, then your little brother and I can tell that he loves you as such, as you love him. He is strong and volatile, a powerful young man, with the wild emotions of youth and the responsibilities of being a man. He carries the burden of war and the burden of being a Jedi. And so do you. And as much as you deny that he is your charge any longer, you carry the added burden of looking after him. In seeing him now, you have a very big job and I do not envy you it.

xxxx

I have not been a diplomat for all these years and learned nothing. He clings to you, needing you to be whole and stewing that you are not what he needs right now. You are his anchor, holding him firmly in the light, but for all the strength that he imparts to you while he sits with you, he needs so much from you, even now in your pain and suffering. Men such as you do not share emotions freely; it does not mean that you do not have them. When I first met you, you kept your frustrating implacable mask in place, never revealing feelings or emotions. Your mask fell on Zigoola, when you were broken. You are more yourself today, but you are still too wounded now to hide your emotions from me. I am a very good diplomat, after all.

I can see that you love him; that you trust him with your life; that you believe in him. You share it not with words, but with a smile; a pat on the back; a light-hearted jibe. I know, because you have allowed him to remain with you for hours, holding your hand or saying nothing at all, even when the medics come to change your bandages and your broken body is on display; even though you are weak. You are a very private man, and would not allow anyone near you in your current suffering if you did not love him or trust him completely. But I can see that he does not understand and he will not believe you. As I leave the two of you sitting comfortably alone together, you who are weakened beyond speech and he, a living maelstrom of youthful Jedi power, I am saddened. Because I do not believe that he will ever understand.

xxxx

He clings to you; he needs your guidance and yet resents it when it is given. He will still feel that you do not trust him and his anger will grow, even though you will tell him to let it pass; even though all of your actions say that you do trust him. Even though all of your actions say that you love him. Even though you tell him that he has done well. No matter how much you try to show that you love him, he will never believe you. No matter how much you do love him, it will never be enough.

He is a shooting star, burning hot and bright with singular focus and singular purpose and although he has compassion, even kindness in him, in the end it is all about _him_. He wants; he _needs_ to control all things around him. He loves you, but his love is a needy love, a greedy and selfish love and you have nothing to give him right now. You will drain the last reserves of your strength trying to ease his fears, trying to be okay for him, because he needs you to be so. And he will resent you for hiding your pain and weakness from him, even though you do it to ease his fear for you. And he will still be angry, because he needs you but he can never control you. Because he can never control what happens to you. Because everything you can give him will never be enough. Because all the love in the galaxy, cannot stop a shooting star. I hope that I am wrong. I know that I am not.


End file.
